The Real Charlotte, 1 33 



able to yonng women as Mr. Hawkins or anyone ; " she 

 paused at the door. " She'll be here the day after to- 

 morrow," with a sudden collapse into pathos. " Oh, Chris- 

 topher, you must help me to amuse her." 



Two days afterwards Miss Mullen left for Dublin by the 

 early train, and in the course of the morning her cousin got 

 upon an outside car in company with her trunk, and em- 

 barked upon the preliminary stage of her visit to Bruif. 

 She was dressed in the attire which in her own mind she 

 specified as her " Sunday clothes," and as the car rattled 

 through Lismoyle, she put on a pair of new yellow silk 

 gloves with a confidence in their adequacy to the situation 

 that was almost touching. She felt a great need of their 

 support. Never since she was grown up had she gone on a 

 visit, except for a night or two to the Hemphills' summer 

 lodgings at Kingstown, when such "things " as she required 

 were conveyed under her arm in a brown paper parcel, and 

 she and the three Miss Hemphills had sociably slept in the 

 back drawing-room. She had been once at Bruff, a visit of 

 ceremony, when Lady Dysart only had been at home, and 

 she had sat and drunk her tea in unwonted silence, wishing 

 that there were sugar in it, but afraid to ask for it, and re- 

 specting Charlotte for the ease with which she accepted her 

 surroundings, and discoursed of high and difficult matters 

 with her hostess. It was only the thought of writing to her 

 Dublin friends to tell them of how she had stayed at Sir 

 Benjamin Dysart's place that really upheld her during the 

 drive ; no matter how terrible her experiences might be, the 

 fact would remain to her, sacred and unalterable. 



Nevertheless, its consolations seemed very remote at the 

 moment when the car pulled up at the broad steps of Bruft, 

 and Gorman the butler came down them, and solemnly 

 assisted her to alight, while the setter and spaniel, who had 

 greeted her arrival with the usual official chorus of barking, 

 smelt round her politely but with extreme firmness. She 

 stood forlornly in the big cool hall, waiting till Gorman 

 should be pleased to conduct her to the drawing-room, 

 uncertain as to whether she ought to take off her coat, 

 uncertain what to do with her umbrella, uncertain of all 

 things except of her own ignorance. A white stone double 

 staircase rose overawingly at the end of the hall ; the floor 



